That's being a bit dramatic, but after spending the worst 4 days in bed, paralyzed by extreme nausea and vomiting, the towel had to be thrown.
Admitting that makes me spend a few minutes feeling like a failure.
I officially quit 1 round short of the 6 full treatments (of FOLFIRI) I decided to do this summer. 6 rounds - 1 round = 5 rounds of full dose chemo. It was all voluntary on my part, so why the hell not.
The big, unsolved mystery over the last 5 rounds was why all the violent sickness. I've done this before - 12 times before! And not once did I even reach for my bedside bowl. Sure, I was a bald, scrawny mess who could barely sit on her own sore ass. Yet here I was, only doing 6 rounds and sicker than I'd ever been. Throwing up more than I ever have.
Drug after drug was prescribed, and drug after drug failed. And I felt like
I was even coxed in for my pump disconnect with another shot of Aloxi, a "powerful" and "long term" anti-nausea drug they give me before my infusion. In an act that can only be described as a figurative middle finger to the non-listeners, I promptly made it to the parking lot before throwing up.
So I decided to quit my 6 rounds of summer. I threw in the towel I had just used to wipe the puke from my mouth, and had to sit there and justify my decision to my doctor. Lame.
Don't think I'm quitting treatment. As I type, I have my pump of 5-FU infusing me with my 47th round of chemo and feel just fine. Back to the drag of chemo-lite.